


Poetry on the Table

by perictione (leclairage)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: A Very Inappropriate Staff Meeting, Drift and Megatron Process Their Emotions, Fade to Black, M/M, Megatron Writes Erotic Poetry, Poetry, Polyamory, Rodimus Helps, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, The Happy Universe Lost Light, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leclairage/pseuds/perictione
Summary: "You were just planning on NEVER telling me that Megatron writes EROTIC POETRY—that you’ve memorized? And me, your very best friend!"
Relationships: Background Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 16
Kudos: 159
Collections: Secret Solenoid '19-'20





	Poetry on the Table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanzaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanzaru/gifts).



> My Secret Solenoid gift for [Sanzarus](https://sanzarus.tumblr.com/)! Written for the amazing prompt of IDW Megadriftrod and a poetry reading.

It had been a very long meeting.

Looking studiously down at his datapad, Megatron said, “In addition, I’m concerned about the ship’s supply of nitrates. I checked the stores earlier, and I think someone has been pilfering them for recreational use again.”

“You always did run a tight ship,” Drift said in a strange voice.

A _very_ long meeting.

Really, Rodimus would have thought that being in ‘the Happy Universe’ would have made running the Lost Light less work rather than more. But no, apparently, being constantly in crisis meant they’d been skipping all these ‘vitally important’ ‘routine maintenance procedures’ that were ‘essential’ to blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah. Or at least, Megatron kept saying things like that. Everyone’s favorite former dictator had relaxed for about two hours after they’d successfully made the jump, before going all stiff and difficult and awkward again. You’d think escaping certain eternal torment would put a spring in a mech’s step, but noooo.

Rodimus tuned back in from staring at the fascinating pattern on the ceiling when he realized things had gone silent.

“Uh, guys?” he said, looking around the table at his co-captain and newly-reinstated third-in-command. They were glaring at each other—that was new.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Drift?” Megatron replied slowly and in a slightly deeper voice than usual.

“Look, nitrates are delicious, sprinkle a little in your morning energon, it’s perfection, I don’t see why we need to be such hard-afts about it—” Rodimus said.

“Oh, nothing,” Drift interrupted, smiling in a really terrifying way, “It’s just nice to know some things never change.”

“What ‘things?’”

“You,” Drift nearly spat.

“Uh, woah there,” Rodimus tried, but neither of them looked away from their staring contest. Rodimus wracked his processor trying to figure out what he might have missed in the conversation to explain the sudden tension, but he didn’t come up with anything.

“ _Me_?” Megatron said in an exaggerated tone. “I had no idea you had such a passion for nitrate flavorings. What exactly brought this on?”

Drift growled—actually growled—and said, “I don’t care about the nitrates. _You_ shouldn’t care about the nitrates. We’ve been in this meeting for two hours, and all you seem able to care about is the minutiae of command.”

“I’m supposed to care about the details of command, I’m the co-captain,” Megatron frowned severely back. Rodimus turned his head from one to the other like he was watching a match of ultimate dodgeball.

“You’re _supposed_ to delegate matters of crew discipline, not handle each and every one yourself. Maybe you’ve been forgetting that there’s a third-in-command on this ship again.” Drift looked dismissive. “But that was always your problem. You never did get the hang of trusting your subordinates.”

Rodimus let out a low whistle which neither of them appeared to notice.

Megatron looked incredulous. “Oh, I never ‘got the hang’ of trusting my subordinates? Well, _Drift_ , maybe if you’d wanted to be trusted as third-in-command, you shouldn’t have up and left!”

Drift gasped. For a moment he was lost for words, but at last he spoke, a fire in his optics and a snarling turn to his lip, “I left because of _you_. What was it you used to say? Ah, yes:

> _Struggle and claw my way  
>  to being worthy, rather than deserve the deprivation  
>  of my lover’s white-hot tenderness.”_

It was Megatron’s turn to gasp.

“I feel like we aren’t talking about the Lost Light anymore, maybe?” Rodimus said in the open silence. _Finally_ they both looked at him. He waved cheerfully. “Yepp, I’m still here.”

Megatron pressed a hand against his face and mumbled something unintelligible. Drift still looked pissed, but in a slightly guilty way now.

Rodimus stood up and scooted himself onto the table to sit fully on top of it. “Okay,” he said to Drift, “so when I asked if you were cool with working with Megs, and you said ‘yes, blah blah forgiveness, professional, maturity—’”

Drift cut in, with the full-on puppy dog optics look going now, to say, “Roddy, I really thought it would be fine then—”

“Except for how you were just planning on NEVER telling me that Megatron writes EROTIC POETRY—that you’ve memorized? And me, your very best friend!”

Megatron groaned into his hand and glared with one visible optic.

“That’s what you’re taking away from this?” Drift said.

“Are you surprised? It’s Rodimus,” drawled Megatron.

“Anyway, the obvious important question here is: is there more where that came from?”

“I am not going to say any more, Roddy,” Drift protested, but Megatron cut him off.

With an affected air of disinterest that Rodimus didn’t buy for a second, Megatron said:

> “ _I will tear down the world to let you see the stars,  
>  carrying you on my shoulders  
>  glimpse a distant ecstasy,  
>  while I drown in your taste.”_

“Wow. Wow wow.” Rodimus coughed and shifted his legs to, uh, relieve some pressure after that last line and the position it implied sank in. “Also, can I just say, you guys have got some really intense eye contact going on.”

They did. Drift had this super weird expression that was a cross between his sexy-time face and his getting-ready-for-a-fight face, and Megatron looked like he might have bitten off more than he could chew here—which, yeah—but was trying to hide that under the cover of indifference.

“You can just quote that like it doesn’t matter?” Drift said.

“If you didn’t want to talk about it, you shouldn’t have brought it up, _Drift_ ,” Megatron complained.

“Stop saying my name like that!”

“So like, do I need to just not put you two in meetings together?” Rodimus asked. “Considering the whole bad-breakup-backstory thing?”

“No!” they both said together, and then looked away from each other in an extremely pathetic way that made Rodimus laugh.

“Okay, so…”

Drift visibly composed himself. “I just need to release my anger. My aura will be more balanced if I can let go of these negative emotions and move on.”

Megatron grimaced, still trying to look like he didn’t care and definitely not succeeding. “Well, if that doesn’t work, you can always just drop me off on the nearest asteroid.”

“What—”

“No!” Drift said, suddenly loud. When they both looked at him he pulled his expression back together and said, “Don’t be ridiculous. We aren’t going to leave you behind.”

Megatron’s face twitched in what Rodimus would have called a flinch on anyone else. He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again, looking down at the table. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, D—Drift. I’m sorry. I was still there, but I left you behind long before you left me.”

Drift stood up suddenly as he said that, and Megatron’s mouth went all tight, still not looking up.

Walking to stand beside his chair, Drift said softly, “I’m still angry, but...you found your way back, in the end.” Megatron’s head shot up, meeting Drift’s optics. Rodimus leaned forward from his position on top of the table to get a better look. “We want you here,” Drift whispered.

With a weird, slow-motion move like in a scene from a romance holo, Megatron tilted his face up as Drift leaned down and then their lips met!

For a moment, both parties drew back, letting their mouths separate, before pressing back for a deeper, more passionate kiss. Momentarily struck dumb, and also wondering how long this would go on for exactly, Rodimus stared. Then, with admirable slyness, he crawled quietly across the table towards them and said, quite close to Megatron’s face, “Hey there, guys.”

Megatron shoved his chair back in shock and stood up, looking emotionally constipated again. Rodimus grinned and gave him a wink.

“Hi, Roddy,” Drift said, his optics only for Megatron, “As you can see, I’m busy just now—”

But when he leaned in toward Megatron, now standing at his full, inconveniently tall height, Rodimus’s co-captain held up a hand. “Drift, you have a _conjunx_ , I won’t get in the way of—”

Drift shoved Megatron back into his chair, succeeding mostly through surprise rather than strength. The big mech landed with a grunt and a stunned expression. “Don’t worry, I comm’d Ratty a few minutes ago,” Drift said, climbing into Megatron’s lap and catching his mouth in a kiss again. Rodimus saw a tantalizing flash of tongue.

Optics flashing wide, Megatron broke away. Rodimus noticed his lips were slightly parted and slightly wet. “You what?” Megatron asked.

“Yeah,” Drift said, hooking his hand around Megatron’s neck to pull him back in. “He’s fine with it, but he wants an invite for next time.”

Megatron’s optics blinked several times in surprise, and he said, “You want—he wants—well. On more careful consideration, I guess I should have expected this of a mech you wanted to bond yourself to.”

“Megs, that is so old news, everyone knows Ratchet wrote the book on interfacing. Even I’ve read _Your Array, Your Partners, and You_ ,” Rodimus said. “Can we get back to the erotic poems? Have you got any more of those?”

Drift laughed and said, “I know quite a few, but maybe there’s more. Written any erotica recently, Megatron?”

Megatron’s face actually heated in a delicate little blush. “Literary pursuits are a perfectly respectable past-time.”

Rodimus smirked in glee. “Sure, sure—that’s why you should totally read another one for us.”

Megatron groaned in exasperation, but his optics had gone a little dark, and Rodimus spotted one of his hands settling on Drift’s waist. He gave Rodimus a look that smoldered. “I only recite work from that genre in _private_ situations. So, Rodimus, are you sure you want to stay?”

“Oh, he wants to stay,” Drift said, grinning.

“Drift!” Rodimus complained, but he didn’t bother denying it. What was the point of escaping to a whole other universe if you couldn’t interface on a table with your best friend and the former leader of the Decepticons if you felt like it?

“The real question is,” Drift said, wriggling pointedly on Megatron’s lap, “who gets to ride him first?”

Rodimus shot up to his knees on the table and said, “Me! I’m the captain, and I haven’t had a turn before, so obviously—”

“There’s no need to fight over me,” Megatron said, with a grin that was simultaneously sexy and obnoxious. The sexy part was winning. He stroked one big, big hand from Drift’s waist and down his hips to spread dramatically over one of his thighs. “After all, I have two hands.” And he made a very obscene, very compelling gesture with a few of his enormous fingers. Rodimus immediately scrambled off the table and onto the unoccupied half of Megatron’s giant lap.

He smiled winningly at him and said, “So, how do you want me?”

Before Megatron’s answering grin could be followed by words, Drift interrupted. “No, no, no. Rodimus was promised poetry, and we mustn't deprive him.”

“You did say you’d read another one,” Rodimus said with a cheeky smile. And then, because caution was for other people, he boldly traced a finger over one of the artistic engravings on Megatron’s chest.

Growling, Megatron grabbed Rodimus’s wrist in a surprisingly careful grip and tugged him closer until the speedster was flush against him. Nearly nose-to-nose with him, Rodimus huffed a delighted laugh and stared up into Megatron’s optics. “What sort of poem would you like to hear?” Megatron murmured.

“ _I_ want to hear something _recent_ —that is, if you’ve had reason to be inspired lately,” said Drift, looking sly and lightly slapping Rodimus’s aft to get his attention. “Don’t distract him, Megatron. Poetry first, ravishing after.”

“Why Drift, have you forgotten?” Megatron said, still captivating Rodimus with that same no-good-very-bad smile. “Don’t you remember that I can deliver overloads and poetry at the same time?”

* * *

_You are flame, but I burn  
I am alight_

_Allow me the impertinence  
Of a kiss,  
Of many kisses,_

_Allow me  
with lips and teeth and tongue  
To return desire for desire_

_Will wet licks  
Make you burn for me?  
A long suck? The scrape of teeth?_

_Allow me to feel  
your desire light up my mouth  
in electric current_

_Your life is a blaze  
It singes me_

* * *

Much, much later, Rodimus found himself sprawled on the floor like an exhausted carpet, steam still wafting off his frame as the erotic scent of ozone slowly dissipated from the room. Getting up and finding, like, a berth seemed like a lot of effort.

Rodimus thought it was pretty impressive that Drift had managed to settle mostly in Megatron’s chair rather than on the floor, even if his legs were still in the air. Megatron himself—Rodimus could see one lower leg and the curve of one huge thigh from where he was lying—was still spread out on the table, apparently just as reluctant to move as the rest of them. His panels were probably still open, too, and thinking of that almost— _almost_ made Rodimus feel ready for another round.

His voice coming out raspy, Rodimus said, “Hey Drift, have you got any other embarrassing secrets about Megatron?”

Megatron grumbled incoherently, and there was the sound of a rebooting vocalizer from the direction of the chair.

Drift coughed and said with tired but audibly merciless glee, “He likes to cuddle.”

It took a moment for Rodimus’s processor to twist itself around from ‘that isn’t embarrassing’ to ‘Decepticon warlords don’t _cuddle_ ’—but once he got there, well, forget about exhaustion. He was going to tease Megatron about this for years, and, most importantly, they could all be cuddling _right now_.

Sitting up jerkily, like he’d forgotten how to use most of his limbs, Rodimus said in a loud voice, “Drift, what are you doing just lying there!”

Drift groaned. Meanwhile, Megatron was making a valiant effort to say something, but it was all coming out in garbled squeaks and grunts like he’d blown his vocalizer—which, yeah he had, because Rodimus was just that good. He could even remember exactly when that had probably happened. It didn’t matter anyway; he could imagine what Megatron was trying to say pretty well. Something like, ‘I’m a big, bad ex-Decepticon and I don’t need two gorgeous, irresistible speedsters petting me and holding me close and making me seem adorable.’ Well, too bad.

Rodimus struggled to his feet just as Drift half-fell out of the chair. They exchanged a conspiratorial look and climbed onto the table. Each took a spot on either side of Megatron’s gigantic, still-prone form. Rodimus did not miss noticing that Megatron's panels were still open and that the view was great—not that he had any charge left to do anything about it. Megatron was glaring a little, but the indecipherable sounds from his busted vocalizer had tapered off, and he raised an arm obligingly to let Drift sidle up against his side and lay his head on his chest. Drift looked half in recharge already.

Rodimus leaned in and kissed Megatron’s cheek. “Hello there,” he said, enjoying the big mech’s little blush, and kissed his mouth for good measure.

Then Rodimus laid down too, and as he stroked one hand over the curve of Megatron’s large waist, he decided that they should have a _lot_ more long meetings, just like this.

It was the Happy Universe, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you love your gift, Sanz! I had a lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Big thank you to [RHplus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RHplus/works) for betaing and brainstorming with me! I love comments so much, so I will definitely love yours—let me know what you think! Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/perictione1), and [tumblr](https://perictione.tumblr.com), and [dreamwidth](https://leclairage.dreamwidth.org)!


End file.
